Why is it that sometimes the people who are closest to you and should care about you, are the ones that actually don’t understand or give a shit?
I am almost lost for words to speak, but I think I have the ability to voice my utter disbelief and anger on these pages.

What is it about some people, that as soon as you open your mouth to express something, they are straight down your throat biting and spitting venom, before the words or sounds are even formed?

Why are they always on the attack, and so defensive first? Why can’t they give it a moments thought that you may have something important or earnest to say?

Why do they always think that they are about to be blamed for something, or they’ve done something wrong, and are therefore protecting themselves just in case.

It kills me some times, when I think that I have spent 15 years of my life with someone that is so selfish and conceited, who is only happy when we are talking about him, his interests, his hobbies, his work, his problems, his family issues and his hang-ups of which there were many. And of course I am indeed speaking about my husband in this particular situation.

He is content with his selfish existence, because he can mock or block whatever or whomever he feels is not important or worthwhile at any moment in time. Which is usually me. As usual, I will just pick up the pieces, and repair them once again, or I will make anew and ensure that each time it is stronger. Sometimes I wonder why I do this, does it make me happy, feel more secure, feel cared for or loved, something special, or listened to? The answer is no, because, all I do is wait for the next time, and wonder if next time, will be my last time.

Why does he only remember at the last minute, that if it were not for me he would not have the very things that he enjoys so much, and yet can be so selfish about. Why does he take for granted, the one thing he should hold closest to his heart and nurture, because I am the only person who believes in him, no matter what? He gives me no real thanks or recognition, there is no appreciation, there are always only words, and more words that essentially mean nothing or even less ,than the first time they were spoken with sincerity. The poison is spat with such anger, but no thought – that will come later when he realises what he is possibly or most likely sacrificing. Why does he not understand that by then it’s too late?

Words cannot be unspoken, unkindness and not be replaced and no soothing words will ever heal the damage that has just been caused.

All he has done is confirm what I already knew and believed, as I see in his actions, behaviour and his mood every day. That will never change, as he lacks the respect within himself, to look into the mirror and see who he is really is, and what he has become. It has been a long time since he really took a proper look, perhaps, it’s time for him to do it again, before he causes long term, irreparable pain.

It is the same blood that courses through his veins, as the other people that constantly torment and abuse him, but no matter what – it will always be my fault. It’s always my fault because I can see the answers that he cannot. I can also see the damaged soul that he carries with him, and I can put in the words what he is too weak to speak for himself. But, most of all I know the man he hides behind and pretends to be, even though he will never admit that evento himself.

It is always my fault, which is why it is easier for him, to do battle with me, someone he feels is week, vulnerable and accepting of more abuse – even though he knows the real truth. It is easier for him to feel some sense of triumph, to beat his chest and parade his fantastic feathers, because he believes he has conquered me– ‘the good side of him’ which enables him to do this in the first place. But, the things is, I gave him the chest to swell with pride, I repaired the wings for him to fly again, and I bandaged his wounds so he could heal, so how I can I be at fault? How, can I be wrong again?

So what do I do next? Do I let him off the hook again, and pretend that all is as it was, and he can carry on with his ‘happy’ life?

Or do I stand up yet again, and prove to him that he has no right to do war with me, because I am his saviour and not his problem?

Or do I add it to the list of unforgivable things that he has done or said in the past, which is making my armour and readiness to do battle with him even stronger?

You tell me.

Sharon Carter-Wray

(5thMarch 2012)

I know I was in a really bad place when I first wrote this, and I think it was the start of the deterioration of my marriage. It took until 2 years ago to finally admit to myself and label what had been going on, as mental abuse. It had been a continual pattern throughout our entire relationship, but marriage somehow reinforced it. I still carry emotional and mental fears, scars & wounds from that period of my life, but thankfully now I can say it is very much behind me.

I was able to walk away with my dignity intact, but it has made me very vigilant about who I have in my life.

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Published by Sharon Carter-Wray

I have been writing since I was 13 years old and I am now 52. It all began with a writing poetry project for school, and it has continued to evolve. It was a time that coincided with my brother’s seriously ill health, and his subsequent death from that illness; and writing was my way of dealing with that.
As part of a ‘Life laundry’ exercise about 20 years ago, I destroyed a large part of my written work, mainly because I finally understood how it tied me to a place, that I never wanted to revisit again in my lifetime. It was also the mark of a turning point, recognizing my continual growth and healing.
I find that writing is a way of releasing thoughts and untangling my complex mind, it always nourishes and makes me feel better. Even if sometimes my own words bring tears to my eyes. But I have noted over time, that the tears have become less. Even if the subject that caused them still hurts.
In more recent years I have created and write for my own blog, called “Journey through a painful body and depressed mind”, as well as contributing to an online mental health site called “Mental Movement”. Both of these have witnessed my deepest and most desperate moments, whilst dealing with my own issues of depression and my failing physical health.
I have written hundreds of poems over the years, expressing everything from joy, deep sorrow, bereavement to starting over again; it is definitely something I do when I need to restore balance. And they are written on all sorts of things, whatever was available to me at the time when the words chose to pour out of me; so they amount to quite a collection.
I used to say that, “if anyone were to pick them up and read them, they would be holding ‘The book of my life story’ in their hands”. And that is still true to some degree today, but now I also express myself through my art & creativity, and the beautiful things that I create.
A lot of what I am posting, was written as a teenager over 30 years ago, so please note the date at the end of each entry. However, in most cases, the contents are still very appropriate and ring very true today.
I always knew back then, that I was wise beyond my years, and looking back now it’s almost as though I already knew what lay ahead of me. It’s as if my words were the very seed of my true vocation, as now I believe that writing is very much a part of my future and something I must do.
I have only ever shared my written words with a few people in my life before, but now I feel brave enough to put myself out there and share with the world.
I hope you enjoy.
Sx
View all posts by Sharon Carter-Wray